


Back to Center

by thewalrus_said



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Offscreen Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:54:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve made up, in every way that Matt can think of. He’s apologized so many times that Foggy has started to get annoyed with him, which is a good sign on the forgiveness front. They joke and laugh as much as they ever did before The Reveal, as Matt’s started thinking of it. They share meals and space and Matt can’t put his finger on what’s wrong, what’s niggling under his skin and threatening to pop out every time Foggy’s laughter trails off into silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to Center

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: I am not a medical professional. The first aid Matt does is based on my own instincts/what I would do, and I apologize for any mistakes I made. Unbetaed - mistakes are all mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

Matt and Foggy aren’t back to center yet.

They’ve made up, in every way that Matt can think of. He’s apologized so many times that Foggy has started to get annoyed with him, which is a good sign on the forgiveness front. They joke and laugh as much as they ever did before The Reveal, as Matt’s started thinking of it. They share meals and space and Matt can’t put his finger on what’s wrong, what’s niggling under his skin and threatening to pop out every time Foggy’s laughter trails off into silence.

Then one day they leave Nelson & Murdock’s offices and Matt realizes it. His arm bends out at the elbow, ready to accept Foggy’s hand, and it doesn’t come. It hasn’t come, he realizes, in weeks.

Matt used to spend so much time in contact with Foggy that he never thought about it, took it for granted, and it had taken him far too long to realize that they hadn’t touched since The Reveal. Not casually, Foggy taking his arm to steer him or Matt slinging an arm around Foggy’s shoulder, or their arms brushing together as they listened to a client’s story.

The realization hits Matt in a panicked second, and he slams his elbow back to his side with such an audible whiff of air that he can’t understand how Foggy doesn’t hear it.

He sits with this knowledge for another week, not able to think of what to do. Now that he’s paying attention to it, he can hear the hitch in Foggy’s breath when Matt can’t stop himself from twitching towards him, and the hesitation in Karen’s voice before making jokes, as though she’s afraid to see them laugh and not nudge each other.

Matt can’t think of what to do. He desperately misses the contact, finds his elbows and shoulders and hands itching with the lack. He wants to grab Foggy by the lapels and lean his head against Foggy’s shoulder and-

But if Foggy doesn’t want to touch him anymore, then that’s the end of it. If the Daredevil is polluting Matt enough to fundamentally alter the most important relationship of his life, that’s the sacrifice Matt has to make. _Stick was right_ , Matt thinks to himself when the door to his office is closed, and he can hear the music playing from outside, feel Karen and Foggy dancing in the tremors beneath his feet. _This wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t care_.

It’s late at night, a new client on the docket, all the paperwork converted to Braille spread out over Matt’s desk, that the floor stops trembling under Matt’s feet and instead falls to pieces. His ribs are aching from where a mugger got in a lucky shot with his victim’s heavy handbag before Matt took him to the ground - Claire had given him a painkiller when he hobbled to her door after, but he’s been in his office so long it’s begun to wear off. He has just drained his coffee and pulled a paper towards him when he hears the door open.

He’s out of his shoes and padding towards his office door in a heartbeat. He’s lived for months in fear of and gradual readiness for the retribution of Fisk’s people. The fianceé was nowhere to be found, and from their brief meeting Matt knows she is more than capable of raining hellfire down upon him, should she so choose.

It’s a sign of how disconnected Matt’s become that he doesn’t realize the man coming into the lobby is Foggy until he has his ear pressed against the door. Foggy’s breathing is labored and he has a slight limp, none of which should have made him unrecognizable. Matt curses his emotions for the fifth time that week and opens the door.

“Whozat! Jesus, Murdock, warn a man before you ninja up on him. Almost gave me a heart attack.” Foggy’s voice is raspy but warm, easing the tension in Matt’s stomach a bit. Not a lot, though.

“You’re hurt.” Matt grabs the first-aid kit from behind his office door. Claire had forced it on him before she went on a week-long vacation the month prior. She had walked him through it before she left, showing him the different textured tapes on each bottle and making him wrap his own wrist several times before she was satisfied. “What happened?”

“If I say that I’m fine, will you let it go?” Foggy asks.

Matt halts, first-aid kit already resting on Karen’s desk. “If you’d rather I didn’t help you, I won’t,” he says, after a moment’s thought. “But you’re actively bleeding from at least two places. You need to at least patch yourself up.”

Foggy lets out a long, low breath. “Nah, it’s cool. You’ve got more experience with that stuff than I do.” His voice is tense.

“Sorry,” Matt says, realizing what he’s done. “I’ve been trying to do it less, honestly. It’s hard to turn off, especially when I’m worried.”

“It’s cool,” Foggy repeats, sitting in Karen’s chair. “Works out in this case, anyway. Didn’t realize my hand was bleeding again.”

“Your hand, and what else?” Matt pops open the kit, pulling out bandages and antiseptic spray, and after a moment’s thought, a clean cloth.

“Can’t you tell?”

“If I concentrate. Better if you tell me, though, less chance of me blundering around and hitting it too hard by accident.”

“Hard to think of you blundering anywhere,” Foggy mutters. “Left hand, straight down from the middle knuckle, and right cheekbone.”

“What happened?”

“Couple of muggers. I gave a statement to the police already, calm down, but they didn’t make me go to the hospital. Came here because it was the closest place with alcohol and Bandaids.”

Matt folds the cloth. “Brace yourself.”

“What, no ‘This might sting a little’? Your bedside manner sucks.”

“You already know it’ll sting, and more than a little. Stop talking, keep your face still.” Matt approaches Foggy’s face slowly with the cloth, aiming as best he can. Foggy’s hand closes around his wrist and guides him the rest of the way. “Thanks,” he murmurs over Foggy’s anticipatory hiss. “Don’t move.” He holds the cloth down until the slow trickle of blood clots, and then runs a clean edge down Foggy’s cheek to gather the blood he knows has spilled there. Another moment and he has a bandage out of the kit and open. This time Foggy doesn’t help him, but it doesn’t matter - he knows where the cut is now, he can cover it and press the tape down without help.

“How’s that?” he asks, sitting back on his haunches.

“Not bad for a blind nurse,” Foggy says. Matt barks a laugh and reaches for the spray again. “This one’s smaller,” Foggy reports. “Pretty shallow, just messy.”

“Noted,” Matt says. He wraps his left hand around Foggy’s wrist to locate it and presses down against the back of his hand. Another sharp intake of breath tells him he’s hit the mark. “Too much?”

“No, it’s fine. Just burns.” Foggy’s breath is slower now, though, as though he can’t feel the pain of it. Matt wipes the area around the cut gently and reaches for a piece of gauze.

“I’m gonna wrap this one around your whole hand,” he says, pressing the gauze in place and reaching for the wrap in the kit. “Best way to keep it in place. Plus it’ll keep you from forgetting it’s there and reopening the wound, which I can tell you from experience is not fun.”

“Noted,” Foggy mimics. Matt grins, winding the wrapping around Foggy’s wrist. He finishes quickly, tucking the end under itself.

“All done,” Matt says, sitting back.

“What, no kiss to make it all better?” Foggy quips.

All the air in the room seems to rush past Matt’s ears, and Foggy’s gone very still. Matt realizes that his hand is still wrapped around Foggy’s wrist. Slowly, slowly, giving Foggy enough time to pull away, Matt leans forward and presses his lips to the back of the wrapping around Foggy’s hand.

He holds there for a single heartbeat, two, and then pulls back. “All better?” His voice has gone hoarse.

Foggy clears his throat, not moving from where Matt’s still holding him. “Well,” he says, his own voice shaky. “That one, anyway.”

Matt slides his hand up Foggy’s arm, up his neck, and grips him lightly by the back of the neck. “I wouldn’t want to leave a job unfinished,” he murmurs, and bends to kiss Foggy’s cheek.

His lips have barely landed before Foggy’s moving, turning Matt’s head and kissing his mouth. Matt grips Foggy’s collar in his other hand and holds on for dear life, kissing back and trying in vain not to drown.

The angle is too awkward to stay in for more than a few seconds - they break apart, and Foggy drops down onto his knees and kisses Matt again. “Jesus, Murdock,” he says, out of breath already.

“I didn’t know,” Matt babbles, “I didn’t know, I - you weren’t touching me anymore, I thought…”

Foggy’s running his hands over Matt’s face and arms like he’s trying to make up for weeks of no contact. “I’m sorry, I thought you didn’t need me to, wouldn’t want me to treat you like you still needed -”

“I need you to touch me,” Matt interrupts. “Both in the general sense and the more immediate situation.”

Foggy laughs and kisses Matt again. “Fuck. Yeah, that sounds good. Come on, my place is closer.” He stands and takes Matt’s hand, pulling him up.

“My desk is closer,” Matt replies, trying to tug him towards his office.

Foggy kisses him yet again, soundly, until he stops pulling and goes limp. “We’re doing this properly,” he says, low and happy. “If you wanted a shitty first time against some uncomfortable furniture, you should have taken me up on my first offer back in school.”

Matt grins, remembering those few months back before he realized how gone he was for his roommate, and takes Foggy’s hand. “If you’d made it again six months later, I totally would have,” he says just to hear Foggy’s groan of frustration. “Lead the way.”


End file.
